In Which Google Tries to Strand Me in Minnesota

Oct. 11--Morning on trail near Stillwater, Minnesota. Pretty, sunny fall day, I am on a bike ride with my wife.

Fall break at the university where I teach—three days off classes—has come and gone, and I’m back. No thanks to those high-tech wizards at Google.

My wife and I visited our oldest daughter and her family in Minnesota over break. We took bicycles and a Tag-a-Long seat that hitches to my hybrid bike, Clarence.

On Wednesday, it rained in Iowa, but we weren’t in Iowa. We were hundreds of miles north near the Twin Cities in a town called Mahtomedi. And on this day, we drove a short distance from our daughter’s house in that suburb of Saint Paul to Stillwater, on the St. Croix River between Minnesota and Wisconsin. We took out our bikes in our minvan and enjoyed a 10-mile ride along the river and into the countryside.

We then put our bikes back in the van and walked downtown for a nice lunch.

Wednesday morning ride.

Later, after my grandson got out of kindergarten for the day, I attached the Tag-A-Long and we headed out.

And got lost. We had found a trail, rode along it for a while, but on the way back didn’t recognize the turnoff. We both noticed it about the same time.

“I don’t think we were here before,” the child said.

Grandpa agreed. And didn’t have the address of his daughter’s house. But that’s why cell phones were invented, a quick phone call and text later, and the address was put into Google maps.

And then I had to try to follow the Google map directions home. I don’t have a way to hold the phone in view while biking, so I had to depend on its feminine robot voice directing me, which was, frankly, a true pain.

I can’t say I don’t like Google maps. The systems works far better than the first generation of GPS devices, and we use Google all the time when driving—it’s how we found our daughter’s house on Tuesday.

But have you ever tried to bike with Google maps? It sort of works in that it will show you a route, but the timing is all wrong. In the car, we had a navigator to watch the map while the driver drove, which helped, but the voice gives usually timely instructions on which fork or exit to take.

Usually. Google’s directions aren’t 100 percent, but they’re pretty good.

For driving. Not so much for biking. The robot voice doesn’t seem to grasp when to tell you something on a bike. Distances and speeds are all different, and it feels like the voice tells me things I don’t need too far in advance.

Anyway, the Google voice didn’t help much. But by pausing and checking the map now and then, I was able to suss it out. Eventually, I recognized the name of the street that leads to the street my daughter lives on, and we were on our way home.

Fortunately, my 5-year-old grandson loves biking and didn’t mind the extra distance. As we drew near the end of the ride, he informed me that, however, he didn’t want to stop at a neighborhood park we had planned to play at anymore; he wanted to go straight home.

Until we got right by the park and he could see it. His tune changed, which was fine by me, it was a cool but pretty, sunny fall day and if he wanted to play at a park for a while, well, why not?

He unexpectedly met a girl in his class there and they enjoyed running around, playing quick games on the equipment. At some point, he wanted to use my camera to try to take a picture, and I let him. (It was a portrait of me that I did not save since it was just my blurry forehead with some trees in the background).

My grandson and I ready for our afternoon bike ride adventure.

After 30 minutes or so, he was ready to head home and his classmate was ready to leave, too, so we said our goodbyes, she to go with her mom to pick up a sibling from dance class, my grandson and I to ride to his house.

It added up to a 5-mile ride, which I enjoyed, aside from being briefly misplaced.

The next day, Thursday, was cloudy and windy and cool. It was supposed to rain that afternoon, but I headed out on a morning bike ride. There is a trail that leads from my daughter’s suburb to Saint Paul, and my goal was to ride in that direction. I had no intention of going into the city, I just wanted to ride on a prominent trail I hadn’t been on before.

And Google’s directions, in this case, were an epic fail.

I had put in what seemed like the nearest trailhead on my chosen route and informed my phone that I planned to bicycle there. And I was off. At first, the directions took me along streets that weren’t bad, more or less in the direction that I thought I should go, although to be fair, my sense of direction is useless in the spaghetti of streets in this suburb.

I rode by a park and through a four-way stop. The robot voice directed me that, in 1,000 feet, I would turn right.

However, the block that I was riding on ended in a dead end. There was no street off to my right. I rode back to the park, and decided to try again. I ended my ride and picked a different trailhead along my target trail. The robot voice told me to go to the street and turn right. Which I did.

And then it took me down the same dead-end block. On my way back out of the block, it told me to turn right onto a street that wasn’t there. However, there was a gravel trail off to my right, so I figured, why not?

At least I could turn, even if the imaginary street wasn’t there.

Selfie of a lost biker.

I was clearly in a large park, crisscrossed by limestone trails. I found myself wishing that I was riding my mountain bike, The Fancy Beast, but at least I wasn’t on Argent, my road bike. The hybrid’s slightly wider tyres weren’t the best on these trails, buts still better than skinny road bike tyres.

Near a pretty pond, I paused and took a selfie with my phone and posted it to Instagram and Facebook and a family group on Whats App. “Where is Joe?” I asked. Seriously, where was he? He didn’t really know.

My son-in-law helpfully replied that I was in Minnesota. Thanks, man. I think I was in Katherine Abbott Park, although, to be honest, that's a guess.

My bike in a park in Minnesota Oct. 12. Based on later research, probably Katherine Abbott Park in Mahtomedi. Maybe.

Another view of bike on trail somewhere in Minnesota. I didn't mind, it was a pretty ride, but I would have preferred a bit of clarity on where I was.

Up ahead, a downed tree limb. Even on the hybrid bike, it wasn't hard to go around, and most of the trails were clear, even if I had to take it easy on this bike. Mountain Bike would have been better for this part of the ride.

Sign near school in Mahtomedi. From bike trail, the "or" was too small to see, so to me, the sign said "No hunting trespassing." Since this school area was marked that way, I assume hunting trespassing is allowed in most of the state.

I made it to school and am ready to turn back. From here, I can find my own way, which is good news considering my recent experience with electronic navigation.

I made my way through the park to a street on the other side. Eventually, by accident, I made my way to the bike trail my grandson and I had been on the day before. By now, I had shut Google down, because Ms. Biker Robot Voice was being less than helpful.

I cycled through downtown, just enjoying the day despite the chill and grey. Eventually, I ended up outside of the elementary school where my daughter works, and took another selfie, just to show that the biker who was lost had again been found.

No thanks to Google.

Several years ago, when my small family team was riding on RAGBRAI and was seeking a host house in a strange town, my sister entered the address into Google maps and we were off. Way off. We ended up on an odd, roundabout route that involved, for one thing, an extensive detour along a gravel road. Google, way back then, was not all that reliable for biking. Ironically, the next morning, using directions from our human hosts, we had a relatively easy paved ride back to the big ride.

What's a lost biker to do in a park? Take plant pictures, clearly. Milkweed seeds above, fall colors below.

Maybe it should be a sense of comfort, in this era of rapid change, that some things seem to remain the same. For biking, at least for me, Google is a very poor tool.

Well, to be fair, I do like it for driving. And my idea on Thursday was to ride with no particular goal in mind, and if I got lost and ended up getting some extra miles but still made it to my daughter’s house in time to make cinnamon rolls to go with the chili my wife was creating in a crock pot for dinner—well, no harm done.

Maps of the longest of the Minnesota rides:

The crazy Thursday ride.

The two days of bike rides was followed by an all-day cold rain. Saturday, we went a local pumpkin festival, and then my wife and I drove home.

Using Google Maps. Which, as usual, was fine. For driving.

Sunday, I took a quick ride along some local trails. It was again cool and sunny, a pretty fall day in Iowa. I love cools days for rides. And while I like bike adventures, it was nice to be in a place where the internet wouldn’t try to strand me in the wilderness.

As of Oct. 16, 114.71 miles for the month and 2,852 for the year. And thanks, Google, for arranging a few extra of those miles. Images from pretty Sunday ride: